The tiara is as ungainly and unattractive as you’d expect a three-hundred-year-old piece of jewelry to be. The gold scrolls and oversized setting are too large for anyone to wear comfortably, and on Lola’s sweet little head, they look even more ridiculous. It’s like perching a cage on top of a baby bird and expecting it to take flight.
Of course, that doesn’t make the diamond in the middle of it any less glorious. I was off in my estimation of its grandeur. It’s big, heavy, simple. The facets are large and the adornments few, making it look more like a rock than a gemstone.
“That’s the ugliest piece of jewelry I’ve seen since the Starbrite,” I announce. “And that was one hideous necklace.”
“I still want it,” Riker says, unblinking.
“I’m going to steal it,” is Hijack’s contribution.
Am I the only one who realizes how dangerous it is to even say that out loud? “I think Peter Sanchez might have something to say about that,” I warn.
We watch as he spins one of his fingers to get Lola to turn, almost like a dog trainer showing off his prize poodle. “Give us a twirl, Lola. Show that beauty off.”
She obliges, her bright yellow skirt flaring around her.
“How does it feel?” he asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.
She laughs. “Heavy.”
He smiles his appreciation and places a hand on her shoulder, gazing at her with all the apparent fondness of a father doting on his offspring. It makes me wonder where my own dad is right now. I don’t see either him or Grant, which is unusual, since they both have a tendency to stand out in a crowd. Then again, they’re also good at blending in when the mood suits them. Grant could be standing right behind me and I’d never hear him coming—he moves like a cat on soundless feet.
“Well, Lola, you better get used to it.” Peter turns to his audience with a smile. “For the remainder of our journey, that tiara is going to remain on my daughter’s head. She will not be removing it to eat, to sleep, or to bathe. She will wear it, and wear it proudly, as she moves among you. She will take it with her when she goes to bed each night. If she decides to go for a swim, it will even take a dip with her. In other words, for the next six days, she and that tiara will not be separated for any reason whatsoever.”
Lola’s eyes, already so oversized, look like a cartoon version of themselves as she stares up at her father.
“I know it seems unorthodox,” Peter continues, raising his voice for the first time. He has to—there’s no way we’d hear him otherwise. The murmured shock of five hundred people is a lot louder than you’d think. “But this is an unorthodox tournament. As I will be playing in the game myself, I can’t be personally responsible for the tiara’s safety, and we’re already operating on a reduced crew. You’ve seen a handful of my personal bodyguards in the background, I’m sure, but no matter how we spread their numbers, nothing my new security advisor and I could come up with was foolproof against you savages.”
We savages just stare at him.
“Which is why Mr. O’Kelly and I have decided to put each and every one of you in charge of the tiara’s security instead. For the duration of the tournament, I will have nothing to do with the Luxor. Instead, Lola will be moving around in the public eye, which means the burden is on each and every one of you to make sure no one does her—or the tiara—any harm. Day and night. Twenty-four seven. She’s on your watch.”
“Daddy?” Lola says, her voice small but clear. She’s rooted to her spot.
I can’t help but admire her restraint. My own instinct upon hearing this pronouncement is to tear through the crowd until I find my husband and kick him in the knee. This is his idea? To make Lola the target of five hundred hardened criminals? To put something so valuable in the hands of a child in the hopes we’ll be too busy murdering one another to hurt her? I know Grant will go to unholy lengths to find his man—the fact that he’s even on this boat is proof of that—but this goes beyond putting himself at risk, beyond even putting me at risk. At least I walked into this game knowing the rules, accepting them, excited and eager to play.
Lola just looks terrified.
“You’ll be fine,” Peter says, bestowing a fond kiss on his daughter’s forehead. The fact that he presses the tiara more firmly on her head isn’t lost on me—or, I note, anyone else watching the scene unfold. “I’m sure everyone here knows how precious you are to me. After all, I’ve entrusted the Luxor to your care, haven’t I? I have no doubts they’ll do everything they can to ensure your safety.”
I could almost swear Peter looks directly at me as he says that last bit.
“You’re my only daughter, Lola. You’re my legacy. And now everyone on board the Shady Lady knows it.” He turns to us with a smile so calm, you’d think he just walked in for tea. “Any questions?”
There are dozens, if not hundreds, of questions swirling around the room, but most of us are in a stunned state of shock, unable to utter them and unwilling to be the first to step up. Where will Lola sleep? What will Peter do to her if she loses the tiara? How much force is too much force to use against the first bastard to try to wrest it from her sweet little head?
I find myself intensely interested in that last one.
“No one has any concerns? Excellent. I knew you’d understand.” Peter rubs his hands together. “Then let the games begin. You’ll find your table assignment slipped under your door by morning. I expect each of you to be ready and in place at ten. Game play will continue for eight hours, with regular breaks for meals. Failure to show up at any of the designated times will result in immediate disqualification, so I suggest you set your alarms and get plenty of rest. Good luck to each and every one of you.”
It’s as good a dismissal as I’ve ever heard, but no one moves.
“Oh, and Lola and I will be heading up to the pool bar, in case any of you’d like to accompany us. You wouldn’t believe how much that diamond sparkles in the sun.”
With that, he turns on his heel and exits the way he came, leaving Lola to follow in his wake. I watch, blinking, as they go.
The scheme is, at once, the best and the worst security plan I’ve ever heard. By placing the tiara in an easily accessible and highly visible place, Peter has almost guaranteed that one of us—if not all of us—will attempt to take it. However, by putting his own daughter in direct danger of being attacked or kidnapped or worse, he’s also guaranteed that all of us—or at least one of us—will do everything we can to stop it.
He’s essentially pitted five hundred highly capable thieves, extortionists, con artists, and murderers against one another. On a contained vessel. For six more days.
And Grant helped him do it.
Oh, man. Forget the search for Johnny Francis. Forget my being on board the Shady Lady to protect my husband. The next time I see that man, he’s going to be in serious need of protection from me.
10
The Seduction
Riker is hot on my heels as I push my way out of the cabaret lounge to the stairwell beyond. “Holy shit. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us,” he says.
“The best thing that’s happened to you?” Hijack protests. He’s also on my heels, both men close enough that I can feel the excited tension in their bodies. “You’re not on her team for this. I am.”
“I’ve always been on her team. Tell him, Pen. We never do this kind of thing without each other.”
I ignore them both. The implication behind their misguided enthusiasm is that all I have to do is saunter up to Lola, ask her for the tiara, and depart the ship a very wealthy woman. In theory, I suppose that makes sense, but they’re obviously not picking up on the nuances of this situation.
“If you think this is going to be another Tailortown job you can cheat me out of, you’re way off the mark,” Hijack says to Riker.
“I didn’t cheat you out of anything,” Riker
protests. “You left. It was your decision.”
“Well, I’m deciding to stay put this time. But I don’t know why we’re heading to the pool bar. There’s not going to be any chance of grabbing the tiara now. It’s going to be a madhouse up there.”
“He does have a point, Pen.” Riker slows his steps. “We might be better off going back to your stateroom and discussing our options first.”
I pause on the landing, so angry that I’m tempted to push the pair of them down the stairs in hopes their thick skulls crack together.
“I’m not going to the bar to grab the tiara, you idiots,” I say. “I’m going to see if Lola’s okay. I don’t know if you noticed, but she looked like she was going to pass out up there on the stage. The poor thing is frightened out of her mind.”
Riker has the decency to appear ashamed of himself, but Hijack just blinks at me. “Oh, good thinking,” he says. “You’ll want to stay on her good side, build trust. She likes you.”
I open my mouth to tell Hijack exactly what I think—that building Lola’s trust is a self-serving, cruel approach only the worst kind of human would resort to—but I stop myself before the words pass my lips. He’s already suspicious of my FBI husband and the fact that I’ve shown myself so reluctant to return to our former life of crime. Until I know what Grant’s trying to do with this dangerous and highly visible Kit O’Kelly persona, I need to keep Hijack as far away from him as I can.
“She does like me, and I intend to keep it that way,” I say. “Which is why I’m going up there alone.”
“But—” Hijack begins.
I shake my head, stopping him short. “But nothing. We don’t want to overwhelm her or make her think we’re plotting anything. She’s young, but she’s not stupid, and neither one of you showed her the least bit of interest before the ceremonies. If you go up there and start flirting your heads off, she’ll know something’s up.”
I recall the way Lola swooned at the sight of Riker’s handsome, glowering face, and add, “And yes, Riker, that includes you. If you so much as bat your gorgeous eyes at that girl…”
The right side of his mouth pulls down in a frown. “I wouldn’t do that.”
I frown back. There’s not a doubt in my mind that all Riker would have to do is croon a few soft-spoken words to have her eating out of the palm of his hand. She’d trust a cyclops if I said he was a friend of mine.
“Riker…”
“I wouldn’t,” he repeats, his voice hard. “She’s practically a kid. I might be an asshole, but I’m not a monster.”
I’m instantly contrite. Riker has his share of faults—there’s no denying it—but taking advantage of people’s innocence for personal gain isn’t one of them. In fact, he devoted most of his adolescence to making sure my innocence couldn’t be used for anyone’s personal gain—a thankless and tiresome job few men would have been willing to shoulder at such a young age. Or ever, really.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That was insensitive of me.”
Riker tilts his head in acknowledgment of my apology. “Yeah, well. You’re an insensitive person. I’m used to it by now.”
I flash him a grateful smile. Riker has never been one to hold a grudge. His anger burns hot and fast, but it rarely lasts.
“The one thing I want to do right now is make sure she’s okay,” I say. When neither of them moves, I make a shooing motion with my hands and add, “I mean it. You two aren’t welcome. Can’t you find something to entertain yourselves for a little bit? Go…play shuffleboard.”
The look they share indicates that playing shuffleboard is less appealing than putting their heads together to try and figure out a way to convince me to steal the Luxor, but I can’t find it in me to protest. Let them plot and plan and argue. I don’t care so long as they plot and plan and argue somewhere I don’t have to look at them.
As predicted, the pool area is overflowing with people by the time I arrive, though no one is in the water. Almost everyone is chatting politely and casting wary glances toward the bar at the far end. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that’s where I can find the tiara—and the unlucky girl attached to it.
I expect there to be an even bigger crush surrounding Lola, which is why I’m surprised to pop out of the wall of gawkers to find a wide, empty arc surrounding her. It’s as if a circle has been drawn around the barstool where she’s perched. Her small form shakes under the combined weight of the tiara and the pressure she’s been forced to shoulder, but I’d still peg her as the bravest person out here. From the dark and suspicious glances everyone is sending each other, it’s obvious they’re scared out of their minds.
These fully grown adults, professionals who shoot people and steal money for a living, are scared. Of Peter Sanchez, of each other, and most importantly, of Lola.
“Oh, for crying out loud, she’s just a child,” I say to no one in particular. I cross the imaginary line and plop myself on the barstool next to her. She might be a child with a devil for a father and no one in a gathering of five hundred guests willing to come to her aid, but she’s a child nonetheless.
“How’s your breathing?” is the first question to cross my lips. “Do you have your inhaler?”
There’s a glitter of unshed tears on her lashes, visible to anyone with eyes in their skull and a heart in their chest, but her lungs seem to be functioning fine.
“I’m okay,” she says in a weak voice. “I don’t need it.”
“You’re sure?” I know virtually nothing about respiratory diseases, but any ailment that could cause a person to stop breathing seems worth checking up on. “Because I can go grab it if you need. I don’t mind.”
And it just so happens I have the ship’s master key tucked in my bra.
“No, I’m good, thank you.” Once again, her voice is weak and her words short. I find I don’t much care for her newfound restraint. Her bright, easy chatter was infinitely preferable to this.
“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?” I ask and heave a mock sigh. Lola appears startled, but I don’t back down. “I wish you’d have asked me before you decided to take up jewelry modeling, because that tiara is ridiculous on you. Your head looks like it’s going to topple over at the first sign of a strong wind.”
She hiccups on a laugh.
“Then again, it could prove useful if we find ourselves stranded on a desert island somewhere. With a rock that size, we could find all kinds of uses for it. Starting fires, scaling fish, slicing open coconuts…”
Her laugh turns into a giggle. “Isn’t it awful?”
“Hideous,” I declare.
“It’s so heavy, too,” she confides. “I bet when ladies used to wear it back in the olden days, they only had to keep it on for a few minutes at a time. You know, for ceremonies and stuff.”
“Ten-pound weaklings, every last one of them,” I proclaim. “If I were fortunate enough to have that sucker placed on my head, I’d never take it off again. They’d have had to bury me in it, like ancient Egyptians and their cats.”
She giggles again, but with a wary smile that has me inwardly cursing my clumsiness. Reminding her of my mad love for that tiara probably isn’t the smartest move while she’s sitting here alone and unprotected. For all she knows, I’ve come up here to do exactly what Riker and Hijack wanted.
I grab her hand and squeeze it.
“I’m not going to steal the tiara from you, Lola, so you can stop worrying. You’re safe with me.”
Her smile is watery and fleeting, so I continue in a blasé tone, “And if you want my opinion, I doubt anyone else on board this ship will be stupid enough to try for it, either.” I think but don’t add, at least while your father is watching. “It’s going to be a huge pain in your ass—and neck—to have to lug that thing around everywhere you go, but you’ll be fine.”
She squeezes my hand back
. “Do you promise?”
I have no idea how to respond. I’m not the sort of woman to make promises easily—you wouldn’t believe the kinds of persuasions Grant had to pull out to get me to agree to marry him—and I have no physical way of ensuring this girl’s safety. Not only is it going to be impossible for me to follow her around when I have Johnny Francis duties to attend to, but I’m hardly an ideal bodyguard. I can’t even open a jar of pickles without my big, strong husband coming to my aid.
But the words “I promise” come out of my mouth anyway. I’ll have to deal with how Hijack and Riker and—oh, God, I forgot about Tara—are going to react to that bit of news later. They’re not going to take this twist lightly.
“Well, well, well. I see you’re being well taken care of,” a low, rumbling voice says from behind us. “And here I hurried to the bar, thinking you’d be all alone.”
I don’t turn right away. The sound of that voice fills me with equal proportions of joy and anticipation and righteous, seething fury. Lola, however, brightens so much that I assume she and the suave Kit O’Kelly have already met.
“Mr. O’Kelly!” she cries and jumps to her feet. The quick action jostles the tiara so much that gravity takes hold, sending all two hundred of those carats tumbling to the ground.
Grant and I reach for it at the same time, the pair of us diving as if in slow motion. Just before his fingertips graze gold, he withdraws, allowing the full weight of it to land in my waiting palm instead.
Man, it feels good. Several hundred years under the ocean mean nothing when it comes to the solid beauty of precious metals and gems like these ones. They could stay buried for millennia and never warp, never change, never bend to the ravages of time. I like how constant diamonds are. People change and circumstances get turned upside down, but a flawless gem always remains the same.
And this gem, my friends, is flawless.
Grant lifts the tiara from my hand. “Okay, tiger. That’s enough—the rules state it has to stay on Lola’s head for the duration of the tournament.”
Seeking Mr. Wrong Page 12
